


Curds and Whey

by applecup



Series: When She Was Bad [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Abusive Relationship, F/M, KotFE spoilers, abusive language, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 12:11:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11509179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecup/pseuds/applecup
Summary: Prompt fills for the Bryn!Verse





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-sexual intimacy meme- patching up a wound for SW/Quinn, for gerdavonrinnlingen on tumblr

If Brynaerith hated any one thing, it was displays of weakness.

Not the false flags she put up to lure in the unwary, but the real thing - the ways in which she was flawed and mortal, just as much so as any other of the Empire’s citizens. That her skin broke and bruised and bled; that she tired, that she wavered. It was the first three of those that currently frustrated her, and were the reason that she’d been forced to retire early for the day. She’d held herself together long enough to brush off concerned questions from most of her hangers-on - was, currently, only in the company of one of them, as pleasing as that company was.

‘My lord, please try to hold still. The sooner I can finish attending to your wound, the sooner we can move on.’ Pleasing, polite… potentially a problem, but so were all of them. Quinn, though, was her medic - was a more appealing option than a droid or slave, and for more than reasons of trust.

She was lying on her front, on an unforgiving medical bed, while he attended to her back; self-inflicted punishment, of a sort, for allowing herself to be caught out. She was antsy, though; disliked how exposed she was, how unarmoured she was, how unarmed she was, how little she could see of her environment and how much she was having to trust that some better-trained assassin hadn’t gotten the better of both their blind spots.

‘On the contrary, Captain,’ Bryn sighed. 'I’m as eager for this to be finished as anyone.’

Still, there was one positive in this sea of negativity. If Bryn loved any one thing, it was to be the centre of attention - and Quinn was utterly devoted to her. Not just in the general sense, though the Force had vouched for the oaths he’d sworn in that stinking Balmorran spaceport, but in a very specific kind of way. His attention, in this moment, was all on her; his gloved fingers occasionally brushing gently against her skin as he tended to the laceration left by an overambitious Rist assassin, who’d seen the bare skin that Bryn made a target and managed a better attempt than most at endangering her continued existence.

'My lord,’ he added, a touch awkwardly, 'If I may- Your current armour, though undamaged, will not be sufficient to cover the bandages. Though I know you prefer to leave your- skin bare, I would suggest that you wear a slightly bulkier armouring - only for the duration of your healing.’ He paused, and then added, 'Of course, this is entirely your discretion, my lord. I merely offer a suggestion.’

'Why, Captain,’ Bryn replied, a smile tugging at her lips that was very almost genuine. 'Are you telling me you don’t like my usual manner of dress?’

'That was not my intention, my lord,’ Quinn demurred - far too composed for Bryn’s liking. He’d gotten better at anticipating her verbal play in his short service, and she couldn’t decide if she liked it or not.

'I suggest it,’ he added, 'only so that your enemies do not seize upon it as a sign of weakness. Keeping your injury out of sight will prevent that, and allow you to heal more quickly.’

'A secret,’ Bryn purred, 'Just for you and I.’ She smiled - wickedly so, looking around to catch Quinn’s gaze and refusing to let it go. 'Perhaps,’ she added, playfully, 'Once we have dealt with these Alderaanian fools, I may be inclined to share some others.’

(He blushed a delightful colour; not quite the red of Sith, but red enough she knew he’d be thinking on that idea for some time, yet)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ☏ What letter would the OC write their LI if the LI was the one who became the Outlander after Marr’s ship is destroyed? - for Bryn, requested by grawwbear on tumblr
> 
> cw for abusive language/relationship
> 
> three letters because Bryn is just that Extra
> 
> the first two are recieved at the same time the letter normally is, when the PC reaches the gravestone. the third is recieved after Arcann starts pasting Outlander!Quinn’s face all over the holonet.

Quinn.

You snivelling, backstabbing worm. It’s one thing for you to deny me my rightful place at Darth Marr’s side; it’s another to deny me so much as the chance to destroy Vitiate once and for all. You swore yourself to my service until death, not once, but twice, and yet still you try my tolerance for your pathetic attempts at treachery. It is testament to the fiction you wove of your dedication to the Empire that none but I have questioned if you did not intend this all along - if you, my treacherous leech, did not see yourself not as a humble servant but the would-be architect of our humiliation.

You should pray, Malavai Quinn, that the rumours I hear are not true; that you did not survive Zakuul’s capture, that you are not the one responsible for Valkorian’s death, that you do not skulk in the lowest reaches of the Spire, that you are not the Empire’s so-called unsung hero. You, who should never have amounted to anything, who I should have left to rot in Sobrik. That you would dare to leave the service not just of the Empire, but of me - to allow Darth Marr to die at the hands of our pretenders, while you slink into the shadows unscathed - these things are unforgiveable.

If you yet live, you insignificant snit, while Darth Marr was paraded as a trophy by our enemies, then you will wish with every fibre of your being that you did not. Whatever suffering you think you have endured in times past, I will visit on you tenfold. Zakuul will burn by my hand and my blade, Quinn, and if you are there - if I find you, if whatever passes for your mewling courage empowers you to stand as tall as your weak and wilting spine allows - there is nothing in this galaxy, not even Vitiate himself, that can protect you from the Empire’s Wrath.

Darth Sicaria

-

Quinn.

It has come to my attention, you piece of unwarranted filth, that you are not the champion the so-called oppressed children of Zakuul claim you are. This comes as no surprise; you could never nurse the drive to champion yourself, never mind these spoilt bratlings.

I am reliably informed that you are a statue, a work of art made to decorate the presumptive child-Emperor’s walls. This is the only fitting fate; your prettiness always was your best attribute, even if it did little to mask your disloyal cowardice. Still, the notion that you have not yet escaped justice, be it mine or Zakuul’s, pleases me. It gives me something to look forward to enacting for myself.

I am telling you this for one reason, you impudent snake. I hear whispers of a conspiracy to free you from you frozen frame, and prop you up as the Imperial hero that you never truly were. Such conspiracies no doubt have existed since the moment you were captured, and will continue unabated until you are free to further poison the air with your drivel, so crushing them before they bloom into something ugly is an exercise in round futility. But do not hope for a second, Quinn, that I allow these efforts because I wish to see you restored. You made an oath to serve me, you gutless wretch, and instead you served only yourself. This cannot be allowed to stand.

Darth Sicaria

-

Quinn.

You are mine, until the stars themselves are dust. You forget this at your peril.

Darth Sicaria


End file.
